


Repercussions

by unsureAuthor



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Coffee Dates, Cake, Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Recurring Nightmares
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:37:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsureAuthor/pseuds/unsureAuthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SBURB is over, but the emotional scars run deep. Dave still mourns his Bro, and Dirk has to deal with being the shadow of a greater man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever Homestuck fic! Let's hope it doesn't suck!

“Look who won the timeline lottery,” the figure whispered. There were dozens of them, dressed in his clothes with his smirk plastered on their faces. “I guess you’re the best Dave, and we’re just _the enemy_.” Their hands were rough, grabbing him all over. He wanted to scream, he wanted to kill them and fight back. And then, one figure grew taller than the rest, engulfing his vision as the hands pulled at him. It was Bro, the sword handle sticking out from his chest as blood just pouredout of him in thick streams.

            With a voice as cold as ice, Bro growled. “Where were you? Where were you when _this happened?!_ ” And the sword was in him and blood there was blood everywhere he couldn’t breathe Bro was killing him stabbing and pain–

Dave woke up in a cold sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead.  The sheets were tangled around his legs, like angry 300 thread-count cobras. Kicking them off, he sat up and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, exhaling shakily. Those damn dreams wouldn’t go away. He supposed he probably had some case of post-traumatic stress disorder. SBURB PTSD, Rose would get a rise out of that… If he ever told her. They talked a little less than they had at 13, now that they were beginning their twenties. His reluctance to speak with his friends, she’d mused, was his way of distancing himself from everything they’d done in the game. Dave hated agreeing with her, but he knew that’s why he’d begun to avoid them. Especially John, who was doing swimmingly and tended to bring the game up as if it was some kind of vacation they’d all shared.

            Some vacation, he thought angrily, staring at the digital readout on his clock. It wasn’t even three in the morning, and here he was, awake and agitated. That damn ‘vacation’ had eaten almost four years of his life, and had gotten more people killed than he was comfortable with. That amount being everyone on the damn planet, including his brother. Yet here he was: sweating in his old bedroom, no one the wiser that everything had gone to hell. Bro was still dead, yeah, and that royally sucked. But now Dirk was here, filling the spaces Bro had once occupied and lived in.

            When they’d defeated Lord English, when they had believed the game was over, they’d found themselves wrapped up in an insane turn of events, even by SBURB standards. There had been more quests, more stupid time shit, and then they’d been given the ultimate prize: their planets back the way they were in the Beta timeline, full of life and promise again. Unfortunately, everyone who’d died during the sessions stayed dead. John’s dad, Rose’s mom, his Bro, just to name a few, gone forever. Dave heard Dirk in the kitchen, fumbling through the fridge, and grimaced.

            “You awake, br- dude?” Dave called, fumbling his words. Dirk wasn’t Bro, not by a long shot. He was cocky, arrogant, and calculating like Bro; but there were enough differences that it felt intrinsically wrong to call him ‘bro’. He slipped on his shades, just in case. It didn’t feel right, letting Dirk past his most crucial barrier.

            “Yeah.” Dirk called back, the fridge slamming shut. “Nightmares again?”

            “Totally.” Dave grumbled, opening the door to his room and peering at Dirk through the dark house.

            Dirk walked towards him, a jug of orange juice hooked on his hand and a donut speared by his pointer finger. Seeing him, even after three years, was like shock to his system. Lean and tall, like Bro, with carefully tousled hair that belied his anime obsession. The shades were the worst part of it. Dirk took a bite of the donut and chewed quickly before swallowing. He replied, “Me too. Keep dreaming about losing my head. It was a pretty unpleasant experience, as short as it was. How about you?”

            Dave snorted. “Dead Daves, haunting me. Being surrounded by your time clones ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. They’re just huge creepy assholes who mumble over and over like they blame me for surviving in the Alpha timeline.” It wasn’t really any of Dirk’s business, so he cut out the part where his own brother stabbed him repeatedly with a shitty samurai sword. He scratched at the base of his neck and snorted. “Or I guess, since it’s my fucked up subconscious… I feel guilty for surviving.” Dirk nodded swiftly, looking a little distraught behind his shades. Damn, Dave thought, probably shouldn’t have brought that up. Survivor’s guilt was something Dirk had in spades.

            Jake English hadn’t made it, and Dirk blamed himself.

            There really was no way they could have saved him, that island boy turned action hero. He’d sacrificed himself to save Dirk at a critical moment, justifying his death as duly heroic. Dave would never forget the sight of Dirk, cradling Jake’s body as loud sobs wracked him. He’d never seen his Bro cry, and maybe that’s when the rift had really started between them. Dirk was just a kid, like him. There was no way he’d ever take Bro’s place, and Dave wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

            “Hey man… Just, get some sleep.” Dave mumbled. It was damn awkward, like most of their interactions.

            “Yeah…” Dirk replied, turning on his heels and disappearing into his room. When they’d settled on the brand new Earth, Dave had used the last of his Grist and hearty application of boondollars to make their apartment bigger. Now it was as if someone had taken the old place, sliced the living room in half and copied it before slapping the two ends together. The whole apartment was technically Dirk’s, as Dave’s had effectively been destroyed during the Scratch (or ceased to be, or was transported to another realm, whatever), but both parties had done all they could to make it comfortable to live together.

Their need to stay in their old home made them unique. Everyone else had gone on to do what they were meant to do. John was a budding standup comedian and pranking extraordinaire, Rose had a novel on the New York Times Best Seller list, and Jade had briefly dabbled in quantum theory before traveling the world. Hell, even the other Alpha kids had moved on. Another thing that set them apart: they were the only pair of ecto-relatives who were living together.

 Rose had told him that he should get out of the apartment, insisting he was just sealing himself up in a tomb. Maybe, Dave thought as he attempted to sleep again, he liked entombing himself. It was comfortable. Was this what the hermit crab lady from the Labyrinth felt like, trapped under all of her belongings? Thinking of the puppet woman brought Bro back to the forefront of his mind, and a single tear welled up. Embarrassed, Dave wiped it away. No one could see him crying but he felt like Bro, wherever he was, would know.

            Striders didn’t cry, right? That was the last thought Dave had before he drifted off.

\-----

            He hadn’t been woken up by nightmares: he’d been woken up hearing Dave rustling his sheets. He lived on a hair trigger, which may or may not be the result of constantly fearing that the batter witch was going to rain death down on his head. So when he heard Dave shifting in bed, he was on red alert. Not just for danger, though. Dirk had realized quickly that living with Dave filled a need he’d never realized he’d had. He supposed it was just brotherly instinct. He flash stepped to the kitchen and pretended like he’d been there for a while. He exchanged a few terse lines with Dave, who seemed… really fucked up.

Dave wasn’t looking good, Dirk thought as he sat cross-legged on his bed. The donut had been devoured, and he was making his way through the rest of the orange juice container. An episode of My Little Pony played on his TV. It was really weird that he couldn’t watch the episodes he’d liked best because they hadn’t come out yet. He’d been plopped back into the Beta Kids’ timeline, which was a hell of a lot better than his. Still, he yearned for the days when he could just download any movie, any show, and watch it. My whole damn life is a spoiler alert, he thought blandly, staring at the television.

            The nightmares had started to fade almost a year ago, and he rarely ever had them. Dave’s, it seemed, were picking up in intensity. He must have really loved his brother. Part of Dirk was happy he’d never been able to pine over his stranger of a Bro, and the rest of him regretted his lack of family. Dirk’s eyes wandered past the television, to the framed pictures on his wall. One of him and Roxy, enjoying a cake Jane had made for them, another of Jane posing with a mustache and magnifying glass, and then the picture of him and Jake, grinning like idiots with their tattooed shoulders pressed together. Jake’s face was still red from how hard he’d gritted his teeth throughout the tattoo. So much for that tough act he’d put up.

            Jake. That was what the nightmares had been about, about that moment where Jake had shoved him out of the way and caught the full blast of the gun to his chest. The dream was just that scene, over and over, the look of pain etched into Jake’s face flickering like bad reception. But time heals all wounds, and it had almost been three years since that day. So why was Dave so wrapped up in Bro’s death?

            His stomach felt uncomfortably full from the orange juice, so he set the jug down by his bed. The show changed to something else, some dumb cartoon he’d never bothered to download. He flipped off the television and sat in the dark room, sighing.

            Life was harder now, with Dave around. He’s grown up totally alone. Now he had to worry about rules and boundaries. The first week they’d lived together, Dave had a mental breakdown over a pile of papers Dirk had left on the couch. It was obviously an overreaction, but it had rattled Dirk. Dave was just so used to the way he’d lived with Bro, and for the first two years, Dirk had felt like a ghost in his own house, a shadow of a real person that only Dave could see. This third year, things had been better around the house but Dave’s nightmares had gotten worse. And now, they were going to be twenty soon, and Dave was having bad dreams every night. The dark circles under his eyes were a testament to how hard he was taking life. At least during the SBURB bullshit, they’d all been preoccupied.

            Dirk quietly opened his door and went to Dave’s. He pressed his ear against the door and listened for Dave’s breathing. Lots of tossing and turning, but at least he wasn’t crying this time. It was probably the most unsettling thing about living with Dave, who sometimes sobbed as he lay there, unconscious and oblivious to the world. He kept listening, wondering if that was what Rose would call ‘a disturbing lack of respect for the privacy of others’. She was certainly mouthier than his Lalonde, that was for damn sure. Meddling was just in his nature, being the overprotective shut in he was. It didn’t help that he still considered himself a puppeteer of sorts. Half the time he wasn’t sure if his actions were genuine or came from a deep rooted need to manipulate his surroundings to suit him.

            Not that he’d dare manipulate Dave. Dave was like a cagey animal, and he knew from experience that animals bit when pushed. So he just sat on the sidelines, observing what he could and doing his best to avoid reminding Dave that, yes he technically was Dave’s Bro.

            Dirk realized he was still kind of pressed to Dave’s door. Padding softly through the house, he went back to his room and shut the door.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A coffee date between the Seer of Light and the Knight of Time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relationship tags will be updated as they present themselves~

             It was their monthly catch up day, and Dave picked a hipster packed coffee shop in Austin. Her sleek black car pulled up in the lot, and he tried to make his face as expressionless as possible. Their drinks ordered and minor pleasantries exchanged, Dave sat in his chair and waited for the inevitable prying. It was like he was an escaped convict, freshly busted out of a prison made of his own fucking issues, and she was the insecurities bloodhound sent to bring him home.

            “So how are things?” Rose asked, staring at him over the rim of her coffee cup. Dave shrugged and stabbed at his pastry with a fork.        

            “Fan-fucking-tastic.” He said. “Things are going more swimmingly than Michael Phelps in an Olympic pool. It’s like there’s a team of Speedo wearing dudes lined up, ready to launch themselves through the lanes of my aquatic brain pan.”

            Rose chuckled. “That may have been one of the worst metaphors I have ever heard, and for you that’s saying something. Although I’ll admit, it’s certainly ripe with psychological fruit, just waiting to be picked. When did you start feeling obsessed with Speedos?”

            “Ever since I saw Jake English in his booty shorts.” Saying Jake’s name stung, like a phantom pain transmitted to him via Dirk’s damaged psyche. “Speaking of the dead, I’ve been having more of those damn nightmares.”

            Rose _thoughtfully_ stirred her coffee, something Dave had never seen done outside a shitty novel. She tapped the spoon against the rim, a single drop splashing back into the drink. “The one where you’re straddling a nakkodile like a mechanical bull as Karkat hoses you down with pancake mix?” One of Dave’s eyebrows quirked up, and he fought back a laugh.

            “Damn, Lalonde, your Seer powers are obviously working full force. Can we now go into detail and pick apart the horrible implications of that fantastic dream? It’s ten times more interesting than the ones I’m _actually_ having.” He stuffed a bite of tiramisu into his mouth and let the tastes of rum and chocolate spread through his mouth. So damn delicious, better than the apple tarts Dirk insisted on stocking the house with. That kid was fucking obsessed with apples.

            “You know as well as I that we don’t have our powers any longer.” Rose said. She seemed relieved. “Every once in a while I feel as if I can see something, maybe a glimmer of thought from some errant passerby, but it’s rare and weak.”

            Dave nodded. “All I have is an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what time it is. Best power I could have ever hoped for. It’s 3:21:25 PM, right now.” Rose’s eye slipped to her watch and she smiled.

            “Dave, it’s 2:17.”

            “Damn, I was close at least.”

            “How about you tell me what the dream is, then? I’m curious.” Dave sighed and shoveled a few more bites of tiramisu before answering.

            “Nothing too significant. All the time clones are grabbing me and holding me down while Bro stabs me. Then I wake up.” He shoved the remaining tiramisu in his mouth, biting off more than he could chew in a reasonable amount of time. Rose would appreciate the silence.

            Her face was totally blasé, and Dave almost wanted to snap and shout ‘what the fuck is wrong with me Doctor Freud?’ He managed to contain himself. After a moment, Rose settled back in her chair and pulled a long sip from her cup. As Dave struggled to swallow the creamy desert, he looked at her. She was so mature now, her hair cut in a 20’s style bob that framed her face. Her clothes were the best mixture of laid back hippie and cybergoth. Dave was proud she was his ectobiological sister, even if he’d never say as much for fear of her ego exploding into little bits.

            “I don’t think we need to study the implications of that dream, Dave. Pretty obvious what it means to me.” She finally said. Dave nodded sagely, like he’d been expecting it all along. He nearly choked on his espresso as she continued, “You obviously want to fuck your alternate timeline brother.”

            They both remained silent, staring each other down. Rose broke first, a slight smile crinkling her face. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re coming apart at the seams, and you know I just love messing with someone else’s stitches.” Her eyebrow waggled, and Dave chuckled warmly. “Dave, I know you’ve heard this too many times, but did you ever take the time to properly mourn your brother?”

            Dave sighed and thought back to the day he’d come across his brother. Very dead, cold and lifeless like the puppets he loved so damn much. Terezi had been pestering him, he remembered that much. If he admitted to still grieving, he’d look like a little bitch. Rose probably already saw him as much, so what the hell? “No.” He said solemnly, “I never got to have a corpse party for my brother.”

            “Using the impersonal alien term to describe your brother’s passing strikes me as very cold, Dave.”

            “Picking me apart over an innocent coffee date strikes me as very psychotic, Lalonde.”

            “Date? Now you want to fuck your ectobiological sister, I don’t even know where to begin with you.” The wiggling brow was back.

            “I know what I’d do with you,” Dave replied, wiggling his brow as hard as he could. The glasses kind of nullified the effect. “Can we be serious, Rose?”

            “Is incest not serious enough for you?” Now people were beginning to look their way. Dave wasn’t embarrassed though. It took a lot more than that to freak him out. He’d grown up with his guardian shoving sex puppets in his face at every given opportunity. Hell, Dave even missed that retarded shit. A little incest play over coffee was a walk in the park.

            “Rose Lalonde, author of such great works like—” Rose gave him a dark look that told him to shut up. She was no J.K. Rowling, but she was known enough that the paparazzi would jump at the chance to photograph her having innocent coffee with a man who looked a lot like her brother. “Fine, whatever. Am I cured now, Lalonde?”

            She scoffed. “It would take quite the therapist to cure your warped brain, Strider.” Dave nodded and drained the rest of his espresso. Now he felt wired, ready to fuck some shit up… Or just retreat back to the safety of his air conditioned apartment and work on his raps. “I’d love to stay and chat some more, but I promised to see Jade today.”

            “Isn’t she in Guam?” Dave asked. His heart twisted a little, a sick urge in him rising to demand that she stay and mess with his head a little more. That was her job, right?

            “Peru now. She’s brought a transportalizor with her, so I am taking the opportunity to visit. Speaking of, how much uranium do you have?”

            “Enough for maybe like ten more trips.” Dave replied. Rose stood up and smiled softly at him. With the game over, the transportalizors were their only way of seeing each other. Dave made sure to ration his trips effectively, not wanting to be caught off guard. In the end, it probably just made him look like even more of an antisocial douche bag.

            “It was nice seeing you, Dave.”

            “Likewise, Rose.” She left the table and got into her car, gone before he could really register how lonely he was once more.

\-----

            Rose drove down the hot streets of Austin, worry creeping into her brain. Dave had looked a wreck, dark circles under his eyes. He had taken the end of the game harder than anyone, and Rose knew exactly why. His upbringing had not prepared him for dealing with emotions bigger than himself. Also, he’d never been given the chance to work the rage out of his system like she had. She shuddered a little, remembering the awe inspiring terror of going grimdark. John had gone toe to toe with Beq Noir for a bit, and he’d always been a well-adjusted young man. Jade’s loss had occurred when she was young, and she’d never seemed too sad at her grandfather’s passing.

            That left Dave, who was trapped in a mausoleum of jutting rumps and edged blades. Rose quickly catalogued the phrase ‘mausoleum of jutting rumps’, praying to Og’L’Toth she’d be able to use it in one of her books one day. Maybe the third, which was to be dedicated to Strider anyways. Her fingers drummed the steering wheel as her mind inevitably came to what she saw as the root of the problem: Dirk Strider.

            Dave, despite his protests, had to see Dirk as a replacement for his brother. In fact, Dirk was Bro, even if he didn’t act like it. The similarities overrode any differences. Why the hell they were living together, Rose had a hard time rationalizing. She knew Dave had never been alone, and that Dirk had always been alone. It was a shoddy explanation at best, and a hasty justification at worst. Rose was not one for leaving her friends floundering in the darkness if she could help it. She may have lost her powers, but not her sense of duty. As an ex-Seer of Light, the inner depths of Dave Strider’s psyche would not remain dark for long.

            She would see to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you guys enjoy this! As for what kinda pairings there will be... :D  
> (This is code for lots.)


	3. Chapter Three

          “I’m worried about Dave.” Rose said. John wasn’t facing her, but she could see the tension in his body when Dave’s name was voiced aloud. They hadn’t been exactly close since the game had ended. “He’s… There’s something wrong.”

            John turned around and frowned. He was taller than any of them, with broad shoulders built from lugging giant hammers around. His hair was cropped close to his head, a far cry from the shaggy mop of hair Dave had seen fit to sport. Despite the physical changes in him, John was mostly the same dorky boy he’d been years ago. He stared at Rose through his thick glasses with a frown that seemed out of place. “Well, I wouldn’t know, would I?”

            “I know you don’t talk much anymore.” Rose said deliberately. “And I don’t blame you. He’s been so reticent lately. It was like pulling teeth to convince him to go out for coffee with me.”

            “Well, I mean… He’s always been that way, right?” John said. Rose watched him shift uncomfortably, and felt a small stab of pain. It was clear to her that John was shouldering part of the responsibility for Dave’s withdrawal into himself. Despite her claims of being able to plumb the deepest depths of the psyche and bring problems to light, she wasn’t a trained therapist. In all honesty, she had no right to meddle the way she did. But when she saw John’s face, crestfallen and twisted into something unnatural for his cheery demeanor, she couldn’t help but intervene.

            “John,” She said softly, stepping closer and laying a hand on his forearm. “What’s happening with Dave is not your fault. You know that, right?” John leaned into her touch, his face beginning to brighten.

            “It’s just really hard, Rose. I mean, maybe if I had been a better friend he wouldn’t be like this?”

            “You were the best friend a sarcastic and reserved cool kid could have ever had, and don’t think otherwise.” Rose replied. John smiled sadly, and her heart broke a little more. It seemed like that was all there was room for in her heart now, cracks and leaks and bruises. She pulled John into a tight hug, feeling his tense frame underneath her arms. His awkwardness with her was just one more thing on the list that she’d never be able to repair. How could she have known that for three years he’d dreamed of her? How could she have known the things he wanted and waited for on that ship?

            She could have looked, she thought. She could have used her powers, could have checked in on him every now and again. But she hadn’t.

            What was the right thing to say? Rose squeezed him tighter and fought back the tears that threatened to fall. “You’re a good person.” She whispered into his shirt. His hands came up, as if to return the hug, but instead pulled her away, revealing her quickly reddening face.

            “You are too,” He said with a smile. One more knife in the heart, hilt deep and twisting. “I’m sure we can help Dave, ok? I know we can.”

            “Allow me to express how glad I am that you’re confident about our abilities in this area.” Rose replied, the wall coming back up. “Can I trust that you will attempt to bridge the gap and make contact with him?”

            “Jeez Rose, you sound like a robot.” John said, a real grin gracing his face. That was the look she preferred, she thought happily. “Of course I’ll talk to him. Even if he’s an asshole, he’s our asshole, right?”

            “Of course he is.” Rose agreed. John turned away again, focused on the bowl on his kitchen counter. Rose hopped up on the counter, watching him add ingredients and mix furiously. A snarky comment was fighting its way to the surface, but she pushed it back down. Now wasn’t the time to point out that while John had loathed cake all his life, here he was baking like his life counted on it. It’s just another way to cope, she thought. Definitely a better one than drinking yourself to death or fighting an endless skirmish with the ghost of your dead brother. On that note… “What do you think about Dirk?” Rose asked.

            “Hmm,” John hummed, picking up the bowl and cradling it as he mixed. “I don’t know, honestly. I never really talked to him. Kind of a loner, yeah? Although, considering how he grew up, that’s not really a surprise!” Rose loved the way John’s eyes bugged out, like Dirk’s terrifying upbringing was the coolest thing he’d ever heard of. Maybe it was cool, and Rose just didn’t see it. Boys, she thought, had very different values. “I mean, building robots and fighting all day and swimming deep into the ocean to check out the wreckage of humanity? That’s so insane.”

            “Insane is a good way to put it.” Rose quipped snidely. John looked at her, his face screwing up.

            “You don’t like Dirk, do you?” John asked. He pulled out a baking pan and began pouring the batter into it.

            Rose frowned. “It’s not that I don’t like him.” She had to choose her words carefully here. Years of lingual fencing with her mother had taught her that saying the wrong thing could come back and bite you in the end. Rose was not going to have her own words used against her. “He’s just… Odd.”

            John laughed suddenly, a loud bark in the empty house. “Wow, don’t you think that’s the pot calling the kettle black?” He smiled at her. “We’re all a little odd, Rose.”

            “How so?” She asked innocently.

            “Well, I’m a cake-obsessed comedian with a fondness for hammers, you’re a gothic prophet who writes wizard stories, Dave’s an obsessive fighter and sarcastic douchebag, and Jade’s on a whole other frequency. Literally. She can hear dog whistles, Rose. That’s damn odd. Don’t even get me started on the Alpha kids!” As he talked, Rose beamed. He was a good guy, and even his criticisms were playful and full of adoration.

            “Is that all I am to you?” Rose asked, “A gothic prophesier with a penchant for writing novels on ancient men?” John lifted the pan and slid it into the oven, humming merrily and grinning.

            “Yup, that’s the whole shebang.” He replied. He stood next to her and grinned. She looked right back, an uncharacteristically happy smile on her face. They stood like that for a minute, smiling and just enjoying being with each other. Rose loved these little moments. She loved these good times when there were no problems to analyze, no thoughts to pick over. Just smiles and movements and the smell of cake and John swirling around her. And just like that, she was swept up in a bear hug, her face pressed awkwardly into the crook formed by John’s neck and shoulder.  She breathed him in, a heady mixture of Barbasol and flour. This was perfect, to be held by him and feel as if there was some kind of normalcy between them once more. It was a nice illusion, a fun game to play while they both ignored the pain beneath the surface. So she put on her role, played her part as she squeezed him back. He said softly, “You are all really important to me, ok? So yeah,” He pulled away and looked her in the eye, “We’re gonna fix Dave.”

            She nodded.                          

\-----

            Dave woke up the next day to find a cake on his table. It was a fluffy white monstrosity, piped and decorated and so damn delicious-looking. He stared at the writing on it for a good ten minutes, the sleep-addled gears of his brain working overtime to decipher the mysterious codes etched in icing.

            It said, ‘To The World’s Greatest Shut-In With Love –Egbert’. Dave scoffed as he sliced up the cake, shoveling a good handful into his mouth. What a dopey gesture, what a lame-brained idea, what a silly thing to do!

            No one would ever have to know that he saved a slice in the freezer. The slice that said in delicate blue writing…

            ‘Love – Egbert’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like this chapter <3 Sets up for the pairings and heartbreaks to come~


End file.
